


An Assortment of Papyton Oneshots

by iqom_Archive (iqom)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathtub Sex, Car Sex, Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Public Hand Jobs, Skype, papyton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 04:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16947384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iqom/pseuds/iqom_Archive
Summary: A small collection of NSFW Papyton oneshots. Featuring sex during a phone call, sex in a bathtub, Skype sex, and last but not least some exhibitionism in the back of Alphys' car.





	1. Distraction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UnparalleledAngel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnparalleledAngel/gifts).



> I told my best friend Angel that I would rewrite my oneshot "11:43" for her birthday, but I decided to add a few Papyton ficlets from my blog that she mentioned she liked and make it a little folio.  
> Happy birthday, Angel!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alphys calls at a rather inopportune time, but this is Papyton we're talking about. They don't stop for anything.

 Mettaton’s chiptune cell ringtone sounded off on the bedside table without warning, stealing away the robot’s attention (and mouth) from Papyrus’ dripping cock. **  
**

“Dammit, it’s Alphys,” Mettaton remarked after a glance at the caller ID, “I think I have to take this.”

“D-Do you think it could p-possibly wait?” Papyrus stammered, and Mettaton couldn’t help but chuckle. He could tell the skeleton was trying to be polite and accommodating, despite surely being well immersed in a fog of desire.

Mettaton smiled apologetically at him. “I’m sorry, darling… I’ll make it quick, alright?”

Papyrus nodded, his eyes wide with desperation. Deep down, Mettaton loved teasing him, so the look sent a small crackle of excitement running up his plastic spine.

He flicked the skeleton’s chin lovingly with a slender finger. “Besides: the longer you wait, the better it ends…”

With that, he rolled onto his side away from Papyrus and accepted the call.

“M-Mettaton! Hi!”

“Hello, darling.”

“Are you still coming to your check-up t-tomorrow?”

“Y--”

Mettaton stopped abruptly upon feeling Papyrus’ erection pressing firmly against his ass.

“Yes…of course…” he finished, twisting his neck to look back at the skeleton with a puzzled expression–-

 _Christ,_  the look on his face! Mettaton couldn’t recall a time when he’d seen Papyrus this utterly ravenous. Jaw slightly ajar, dilated eyelights, tangerine ecto-tongue visible and wet between his teeth; his phalanges wandered Mettaton’s body with ravenous hunger and it thrilled the robot to the core.

“Awesome, okay! I have a c-couple new parts and b-bug fixes I wanted to discuss with you now so I can have them ready by t-tomorrow.”

Papyrus ground his hips suddenly against him. Mettaton held the phone away from his face and mouthed  _darling!_  at him, bewildered by the skeleton’s rather uncharacteristic boldness, before bringing the receiver back to his mouth.

“Of course! Fill me in.”

“O-okay! Well, first of all–”

 _“I’ll fill you up,”_  Papyrus hissed suddenly, so close to Mettaton’s ear that he could feel the heat from his breath. Mettaton nearly choked in his surprise, a piercing twinge of lust spiking between his legs.  _Fucking hell!_  he thought, a wicked, salacious smile spreading smoothly along his lips like butter on bread,  _I love this._ He’d never seen Papyrus anywhere near this forward, or crass, or  _desperate;_  it only heightened Mettaton’s arousal even further.

As Alphys prattled on, Mettaton reached behind him and gripped Papyrus’ pelvic bone, crushing the skeleton’s erection against his ass. Papyrus whimpered deliciously, grasping the robot’s hips and sliding his cock up and down like a piston between his cheeks. Mettaton bit his lip hard to keep from moaning into the receiver.

“I’ve planned some c-customizations below the knee, to give you f-feet so you can change your shoes without having to t-take your legs off, but I realized I forgot to ask you if you even wanted me to do that in the first place… hah…”

Mettaton barely heard her. “Sounds superb, darling--”

He couldn’t keep a gasp from escaping his lips as Papyrus flipped him rather roughly onto his back, pulling the robot’s hips greedily up towards his pelvis.

“You okay, M-Mettaton?”

“ _Yes!_ I mean, yes. Yes, I’m fantastic. Please continue.” Mettaton stared up at Papyrus, awestruck, still in utter disbelief that his boyfriend was behaving like this. Browbone furrowed, Papyrus' tongue lolling disgracefully from his teeth as he grasped his cock in one hand and lined it up between Mettaton’s splayed legs before hoisting the flustered robot's legs up onto his shoulders.  

_Is he… going to…?_

Mettaton felt the tip of Papyrus’ cock nudge between his asscheeks; he slapped a hand over his mouth as Papyrus pressed himself into the tight, slick channel of muscle, trapping an impassioned gasp in his palm. The skeleton rocked his hips slowly, silently, gritting his teeth to keep quiet and Mettaton’s head began to spin. 

“Okay! I j-just thought I should ask, even though, yaknow, I spent w-weeks working on them and it would b-be a real shame if… thank god you like the idea, haha… ha!”

“Alphys… I’m a bit… busy at the moment… if there isn’t anything else–-” Mettaton managed through parted fingers, doing his absolute best to keep his voice even as Papyrus’ fingers dug into his silicone thighs. Mettaton arched his back, staring directly into Papyrus’ eyes with a lidded, lust-filled gaze.  _God, you feel so fucking good,_ he mouthed at Papyrus, watching with a rush of filthy glee as orange flame leapt up in Papyrus' right eye socket. 

“O-oh! I’m sorry, I’m really sorry to keep you! I just have one more thing-–”

“Make it quick,” Mettaton huffed, his tone a touch more impatient than he had intended. Papyrus bent down over him, keeping up the tantalizing rocking of his hips as he buried his face in the crook of Mettaton’s neck, nibbling gently on the sensitive flesh. Mettaton couldn’t even comprehend what Alphys was saying anymore; whatever it was couldn’t be too important–-

Papyrus’ teeth hit a synthetic artery and Mettaton yelped sharply into the phone. They both stopped in their tracks, souls frozen mid-beat.

“Mettaton?! What happened?”

“Stapled my finger,” he stammered completely on impulse, feeling dizzy, “It’s fine, really, it’s fine. I’m doing work, important work, paperwork that involves staplers at a desk and I stapled it, but it’s fine.”

“Ouch! If there’s any d-damage to the fingertip I can fix that-–”

“Tomorrow!” Mettaton finished breathlessly as Papyrus resumed his quiet, careful fucking, “I will be seeing you then, A-Alphys, on the morrow, so toodles!”

“B-bye, Mett-–”

Mettaton promptly cut her off and tossed his phone unceremoniously to the floor, a loud, shuddering moan of desire leaping from his lips as he threw his arms around Papyrus.

“Fuck me!” he cried, and Papyrus slammed into him with all of his strength.


	2. Jet Set

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton discovers jacuzzi jets can serve a myriad of purposes.

Papyrus threw himself headfirst into the world of bathing with excessive enthusiasm. Mettaton, on the other hand, didn’t quite understand his boyfriend’s zeal (he’d avoided large bodies of water like the plague before his body was fully waterproofed and that residual apprehension stuck with him), but he staunchly supported him all the same; even when their water bill ran up into the thousands. 

Papyrus didn’t even really  _need_  to bathe–- a quick, soapy wash-down of his bones every so often did the trick for a monster who couldn’t sweat–- but he loved the feeling of hot, perfumed water on his bones and the jets of the couple’s heart-shaped jacuzzi tub vibrating against his spine.

The skeleton had of late grown very interested in the various types of soaps and salts one could toss into a bath; turning the water different colors, scenting it like roses, making it bubble or fizz. It was utterly fascinating to him and he was returning home almost nightly with truckloads of products to try out. 

Tonight, however, was a little bit different. Usually, the aquaphobic robot was content with sitting safely by the side of the bath while Papyrus splashed around in the water, prattling about how fantastic his newest bath bomb was. The skeleton had been begging Mettaton to join him in the bath for months now, and tonight the robot had finally (begrudgingly) accepted. Alphys assured him on multiple occasions that it was completely safe, and he wanted to make Papyrus happy–-  _always_ –- but just thinking about it plagued him with horrible, gruesome images of short-circuiting, drowning, electrocuting his poor boyfriend…

Papyrus gingerly stepped into the water while Mettaton looked on with a fluffy towel around his waist, hip cocked, arms folded; trying his hardest not to look frightfully nervous. The scene was nicely set with votive candles littering the side of the tub, wine poured into delicate crystal glasses, dusty pink bathwater brimming almost to overflow, jets bubbling cheerfully.  

“The water feels fantastic, my sweet!” Papyrus exclaimed, sinking down into the tub and grinning at Mettaton, “You’ll love it!”

Mettaton could help but smile; the soapy bubbles came all the way up to the skeleton’s chin, swathing his neck vertebrae like he was wearing a thick scarf. He was so effortlessly adorable, and the sight cheered Mettaton immensely.

Swallowing his fear, he dropped his towel to the tile floor and climbed up on the rim of the bathtub, dipping in a curious silicone toe. Papyrus was correct: it did feel rather nice.

 _It’s perfectly safe… perfectly safe… perfectly safe…_ Mettaton ran Alphys’ words over and over in his head as he allowed one leg and then the other to slip into the bubbling water up to his knees.

Papyrus lifted his arms and held them out invitingly to Mettaton, soapy suds sliding off of the bones. In one fluid motion, Mettaton squeezed his eyes shut and allowed himself to drop rather clumsily into the water, creating a colossal wave that extinguished several candles. With a squeak of surprise, Mettaton scrabbled at the edge of the tub; after a few horrifying moments, Mettaton steadied himself and clutched the basin for dear life like he were about to slip off a dizzying cliff.

“I’ll just… stay here for a moment, darling, if that’s alright…” Mettaton gasped breathlessly, faced away from Papyrus with his chest pressed up against the side of the tub. Papyrus could see his boyfriend’s shoulders relaxing despite his reluctance to let go of the rim.

“Would you like me to hold you so you can let go?” Papyrus stood up in the water, preparing to make his way over and be of assistance.

“In a moment, love, just one second. I can… I can do it…”

“Okay!” Papyrus said cheerfully, sinking back down into the bubbles, “Take your time!”

What Papyrus didn't know was that Mettaton’s unwillingness to change his position was actually  _not_ out of fear. Rather, the robot had discovered something fascinating after his initial collapse into the bath…

Quite by chance, Mettaton had landed directly over one the frothy jets in quite the unique position. To his great surprise, the scalding jet was pummeling him with delicious force between his legs, the bubbles tickling his naked thighs, and the white-hot pleasure that had immediately erupted in his groin was… utterly _sensational._

Papyrus was talking behind him about…  _something_ … and Mettaton had to actively force himself to close his jaw, which was hanging open rather disgracefully. He knew couldn’t stay like this for too long, but the feeling was overwhelming, all-encompassing… as he lifted himself off the jet for a moment to turn himself around in the bath, his body cried out desperately for the stimulation once again...

The frothy water was opaque enough to hide the fact that Mettaton was now leaning very far forward on his knees, spreading his legs over the jet and lowering himself back onto the stream. _Ahhhh… that’s it…_

Papyrus grinned at him, eyes sparkling with innocence, and Mettaton smiled back weakly as a filthy sort of pleasure started building up in his core. 

“Fantastic job, sweetheart! Look at you, besting your fears! I’m so proud!”

“Mmmm… y-yes, honey…” Mettaton hoped desperately that Papyrus would attribute the clip in his voice to his aquaphobia, which at this point couldn’t be farther from the truth.  _God,_  it felt heavenly. The jet was downright abusing his clit, sending electric shocks dancing up his plastic spine. His hand wandered down to his cock, which was painfully erect and crying for equal stimulation. Despite what little friction the water had to offer, just placing his fingertips on it made him shudder; only increasing exponentially as his hand closed with a vice-like grip around its length.

“Are you feeling alright?” Papyrus was staring at Mettaton, head cocked. A part of Mettaton–- dizzy, delirious, lust-filled–- was crying out for Papyrus to come join him on his side of the tub and lend a helping hand. The other part–- the logical side–- was afraid he would embarrass Papyrus; a wave of shame hit Mettaton and feeling so utterly disgusting only increased his pleasure thousandfold…

An atrocious moan escaped his lips; his head snapped up, soul frozen mid-beat in its container, desperately worried that Papyrus would be revolted. There was no way he could deny it now–-

Papyrus waded towards Mettaton, eyesockets narrowed and a mysterious smile on his face.

“Have you… found the jets, my love?”

 _Christ,_ it was sensational, his cunt aching and throbbing against it as he pumped his cock. Mettaton bit his lip, eyebrows turned upward; there was no need for him to give Papyrus an answer. It was rather self-evident at this point.

“I discovered something similar accidentally a while back,” Papyrus admitted, placing his hands on Mettaton’s broad shoulders, “See… if you… push down like  _this–-_ ”

He shoved Mettaton up against the side of the tub and the robot cried out in ecstasy. The powerful jet filled him, pounded into him with no mercy and Mettaton’s head began to spin. Despite his delirium, he could see Papyrus’ tell-tale orange glow beneath the bubbling water and his soul thrilled with excitement as the skeleton leaned into him, bony hands sliding up and down his soapy chest, teeth attaching to his neck.

“How does it feel?” Papyrus hummed in a low voice Mettaton knew all too well; a decidedly un-Papyrus-like voice only Mettaton ever got the pleasure of hearing while deep the throes of passion. 

 _“Oh my god-d-d… it feels g-g-good…”_  Mettaton managed through clenched teeth. He could feel a powerful soreness unfurling in his core, threatening to toss him over the edge into the wracking, shuddering orgasm of a lifetime-–

Without warning, Papyrus’ arms encircled Mettaton’s tiny waist and heaved him up off the jet. Mettaton sobbed in protestation, limbs flailing,  _god,_ he was so close it  _hurt!_   

His desire for the jet dissipated at once, however, when Papyrus finally bent him over. They both stood nearly waist-deep in the water, Mettaton’s fingers gripping the side of the tub, Papyrus standing directly behind him and running his sharp phalanges up and down the robot’s back.

“A jet can’t take care of you like I do!” he quipped, his voice gravelly with lust as he gripped the soapy silicone of Mettaton’s round ass, stretching him apart to admire the view.

Mettaton breath came in gasps, Papyrus’ zeal making him shudder in his anticipation; his whiny exhales fell away to short, wet whimpers and moans of gratitude as he felt the skeleton’s sticky magic cock pushing between his shivering legs.


	3. Ping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton's away on tour and they both get a little lonely.

If Mettaton knew about anything, it was how to be a tease.

For this precise reason, Mettaton loved using Skype as a medium to chat with his boyfriend while away on tour. During any sort of conversation–- whether it was longing for each other’s touch or inquiring about what the other had for dinner-– it presented itself with the opportunity for Mettaton to preen somewhat suggestively in front of the camera, stretching out on his side in only a pair of panties under the guise of “relaxing”.

Papyrus, on the other hand, seemed to prioritize his comfort over eroticism when it came to making himself presentable for a Skype call. While Mettaton’s preferred locale for Skyping was his hotel room bed, Papyrus was always seated in his comfortable desk chair, his earbuds taped to either side of his head to “maximize his listening capabilities”.     

Still, being constrained to a chair didn’t stop him from responding accordingly to Mettaton’s online advances…

“Tell me what you’ve been up to, darling,” Mettaton demanded over Skype one evening, “I want to hear everything.”

Papyrus put a finger to his chin, pondering the last few days he had spent without Mettaton glued to his side. “Well… I’ve been thinking about you… pining… wondering how things are on tour… and that’s pretty much it! Other than working, eating, and sleeping minimal hours, of course.”

Mettaton pushed out his lower lip in a sympathetic pout, knowing he looked absolutely adorable while doing so. “Aww, baby. I miss you.”

He sat up on his knees to stretch his synthetic muscles, arching to one side and then the other by pulling down on each elbow; on Papyrus’ end the stream lagged considerably and froze, framing (unbeknownst to Mettaton) Mettaton’s crotch and sizeable bulge through his pink lace panties rather nicely.

When he relaxed back down to a sitting position, Papyrus’ eyelights were pinpricks in the dark sockets.

“Something wrong, darling?”

“No! N-No, I’m just… you just… look very… nice.”

Papyrus’s cheekbones began to tint a dusty orange as he typed furiously on his keyboard.

_Ping!_

COOLSKELETON95: THAT UNDERWEAR WAS A FANTASTIC CHOICE.

Mettaton’s eyebrow arched skyward, a prurient smile developing on his face. “Why did you feel the need to type that to me?”

Papyrus’ eyelights flicked from left, to right, to left again, and then back to the screen.

COOLSKELETON95: SANS IS IN THE LIVING ROOM, PROBABLY WITHIN EARSHOT OF THIS CONVERSATION.

COOLSKELETON95: ALTHOUGH I’M CERTAIN HE’S AWARE THAT OUR RELATIONSHIP HAS A SEXUAL COMPONENT, I WOULD LIKE TO AVOID REMINDING HIM AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE.

Mettaton giggled, holding a delicate hand to his mouth. “Oh,  _honey_ … you’re so naughty.”

Papyrus flushed a deep tangerine color, his bony fingers flying across the keys at top speed.

COOLSKELETON95: NOT NEARLY AS NAUGHTY AS I’M ABOUT TO BE. HOW ABOUT YOU MODEL THOSE PANTIES FOR ME?

Mettaton couldn’t stop himself from biting his lip as a pit of arousal yawned in his core. Papyrus, the robot had learned over the course of the last year, was actually quite skilled at dirty talk-– in his own, rather Papyrus-y sort of way. It excited Mettaton beyond measure; something about hearing such dirty things come from someone perceived to be so innocent was unbelievably satisfying to him.

“Of course, beautiful…”

Mettaton hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his panties and pulled it taut before snapping it against his ash-colored skin. “What do you think?”

Papyrus whined sharply before slapping his palm over his mouth. His eye sockets closed as he collected himself for a moment before returning to the keyboard.

COOLSKELETON95: I QUITE LIKE WHAT I SEE SO FAR, BUT I’M AFRAID I CAN’T PASS ADEQUATE JUDGEMENT WITHOUT SEEING THEM FROM BEHIND AS WELL.

Mettaton hummed with satisfaction, adjusting his position until he faced away from the camera before falling forward onto his hands. Watching Papyrus’ reaction over one broad shoulder, he wiggled his hips enticingly, arching his back as he pushed his behind into the webcam.

Upon hearing Papyrus breathing quite heavily on the other line, he turned back to face him and noticed with a burning, electric thrill that Papyrus was now typing with one hand.

COOLSKELETON95: TAKE THEM OFF

Mettaton did so obediently, pushing the scanty fabric over the curve of his hips and letting them drop. Flopping backwards on the bed, he kicked his panties away and allowed his legs to fall apart, exposing himself fully to Papyrus as his fingers wandered up the length of his erection with a feather-light touch.

The look on Papyrus’ face was utterly filthy; his right eye alight with orange flame, his tongue fully formed and wet between his parted teeth. Much to Mettaton’s delight, he reached forward and angled his webcam downwards, giving the robot full view of the goings-on below the waist. His mammoth cock was grasped tightly in his fist, dribbling gluey orange magic on his thighbones and the seat of his chair. Mettaton allowed his hand to dip downwards between his legs, his fingertip finding the small divot of his hole and massaging in earnest. His head tipped back, a warm moan tumbling from his parted lips. 

“I wish you were here, darling…” Mettaton sighed, pushing his hips forward into the heel of his hand towards the camera, “I’m so terribly desperate for you inside me…”  

COOLSKELETON95: INSIDE WHERE

Mettaton clambered up around on his knees and turned, grasping his asscheeks in both hands and spreading himself for the camera. “Right here.”

Papyrus gasped disgracefully and came hard in his hand, legs quaking as thick, ropy spurts of cum splattered his shirt. Slumping back in his chair, he grinned at Mettaton, catching his breath…

“Your turn, my star…” Papyrus whispered, his voice barely audible as he took his cock in his hand once again.

Mettaton certainly didn’t need to be asked twice; his hand flew to his groin, eager to follow in Papyrus’ footsteps.


	4. 11:43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ride in the back of Alphys' car, sitting next to Mettaton, turns out to be a lot more of a titillating experience than Papyrus expected.

“Shotgun!”

 _Dang it!,_ Papyrus thought as Undyne bounded towards Alphys’ car and flung open the passenger door. Papyrus wasn’t a fan of back seats, as his legs were atrociously long and he felt claustrophobic when he didn’t have room to move the seat backwards and stretch out. Luckily, Alphys’ car was not cramped like his Lexus convertible (currently waiting for him in his garage at home). Her SUV’s back seat had to have enough room to comfortably fit a seven foot android in high heels.

The aforementioned seven food android in high heels had already made himself comfortable in the back; inconveniently placing himself on the middle seat and extending his arms and (fabulous) legs to either side. Papyrus opened the door and, getting a sudden influx of soul-wrenching anxiety, promptly fought the urge to close it again as Mettaton looked up at him, smiling placidly, his onyx eyes gleaming almost hawk-like in the harsh light of the garage.

Papyrus, despite having spent a good deal of time around Mettaton the past few months, still found himself rather agitated in the robot’s presence; Mettaton _was_ his idol, after all. In the human world, while still popular, Mettaton wasn’t as much of a celebrity as he had been in the Underground. But Papyrus... Papyrus admired-- no, adored-- no, _worshipped_ Mettaton when they lived in the Underground, and _he still very much did._

In more ways than one.

 

Despite Papyrus’ moral protestations, as he stared down at the beautiful, shapely robot, his mind wandered to _MTT-Brand Fitness Blast! Ultimate Leg Workout;_  a DVD well-worn from being watched often on the skeleton’s laptop as he routinely pleasured himself into the early hours of the morning.

 _God, no, not right now…_ Just the fleeting thought gave Papyrus a small shiver. Every second of that video was so titillating to the skeleton that he hadn’t once been able to make it through the entire thing. Something about the way Mettaton would lunge down to touch his toes, his back to the camera, his pink short-shorts barely enough to cover everything between…

This particular set of lunges occured at around ten minutes into the video. Papyrus would speed up precipitously at this juncture, his jaw falling open, imagining the tightness of his grip to be delicious pressure from what was behind that scrap of pink cloth as he filled Mettaton completely, pushing that classic “ _oh, yes!”_  from his lips as he thrust into him....

And then, at minute 11:43, Mettaton turns his head to smolder into the camera. His visible eyebrow arched high, he puffs out his lips into a sultry smirk and giggles, ever so quietly, as if he were murmuring, _I know you love my ass, Papyrus…_

...and after one last shuddering gasp, the reverie would be over as Papyrus made a mess of himself and his sheets. So it happened just like that, almost every night.

 

“Mettaton, move over and make room for Papyrus!” Alphys’ voice brought Papyrus back to the present.

“There’s room,” Mettaton said casually, his eyes flicking to the empty seat directly beside him. “I hope you understand, Papyrus, darling, but my dress needs to be hung up undisturbed on the other seat.” He gestured to a starch white garment bag draped over the seat to his left; undoubtedly his dress from the Human-Monster Relations Gala that morning. “It’s an Armani. Besides, you don’t mind a little close quarters... do you, beautiful?” He beamed at him, his eyes twinkling with expectation, his teeth like two rows of polished pearls.

“Wowie,” said Papyrus unwittingly. It was like Mettaton’s voice was magnetized, commanding his attention like an anglerfish in the depths of the ocean.

“See?” Mettaton looked past Papyrus and blinked sweetly at Alphys, “ _Someone_ here appreciates the care and keeping of high fashion.”

Alphys rolled her eyes and headed for the driver’s seat. Mettaton patted the seat beside him. “Come on, dear, don’t be shy!”

Papyrus took a deep breath, willed himself to play it cool, and slid into the car. _God,_  Mettaton’s boot was bumping up against his shin. He was suddenly hyper-aware of where their bodies were connected, the heady scent of Mettaton’s perfume, the soft clicking and whirring sounds of Mettaton’s internal processes.

“Everyone got their seatbelts on?” Alphys chirped from the front.

“Working on it!” Papyrus exclaimed a little too loudly, reaching behind him for the belt. He jerked roughly on it, forcing the seatbelt to lock in his haste. _Calm down, Papyrus,_ he urged himself, letting the belt slide back in for a moment before pulling on it more gently. _Twenty minute drive. That’s it. Then you can get in bed and--_

Papyrus froze, looking down at the seat on his other side. The buckle was very inconveniently placed, as it was with most cars, but most cars didn’t have a plush celebrity ass directly on top of said buckle.

“Oh!” said Mettaton, noticing Papyrus’ predicament, “Sorry, darling.” He shifted his hips and lifted himself partly up off the seat, revealing the buckle underneath him.

Pushing pink short-shorts very deliberately from his mind, Papyrus steeled himself and reached under Mettaton. He fumbled for a few agonizing moments to click in his seatbelt before retracting his hand faster than a snapped rubber band.

As Mettaton settled back down, his delicate, white-gloved hand fell idly onto Papyrus’ left femur.

 _Does he not notice his hand there?_ wondered Papyrus, doing his best not to panic. It was like the soft material of Mettaton’s glove was corrosive, burning a hole into his leg bone. _How can he not notice his hand there?_

The van pulled out of the garage and turned onto the dark street, swathing the backseat in relative darkness. Sneaking a glance at the android, Papyrus saw that Mettaton’s dark eyes were fixed on the road through the windshield, as if Papyrus didn’t exist…

...as if his slender finger wasn’t currently tracing little circles on the inside of Papyrus’ femur…

There was no doubt in Papyrus’ mind now; Mettaton knew what he was doing. One doesn’t _accidentally_ start wandering up a skeleton’s leg to roll the hem of his shorts between their fingertips. Papyrus blushed a deep scarlet, staring pointedly out the window as if somehow he didn’t realize what was going on but hell, Mettaton’s fingers felt heavenly. He swallowed a grunt of satisfaction as the robot slid a few teasing fingers under the hem.

After a few moments, Papyrus couldn’t resist sneaking another glance and, with a shock, found that Mettaton was now looking directly at him. His eyelids were heavy with lust, lips parted slightly as he regarded Papyrus’ shy expression; when their eyes met, the pressure from Mettaton’s fingertips increased dramatically.

Papyrus’ heart was fluttering wildly behind his ribs, anticipation and nervousness welling up in his throat so forcefully that his toes curled in his boots. _Is this really happening?_ Did these fingers touching him really belong to Mettaton, _the_ Mettaton, the talented, intelligent Mettaton who could sing, dance, cook, write, and act like he was born to do it?

The Mettaton from _Ultimate Leg Workout?_ The Mettaton in the shorts, the Mettaton bending over and looking back at the camera with that _god damn expression, oh Christ--_

Papyrus couldn’t bear to look at him as Mettaton’s hand traveled to his zipper, and instead opted to stare at the headrest of the seat in front of him like it were the most fascinating thing in the world. If he looked, this fantastical situation would become to real, too _good._ Frankly, he was certain he would cum in his pants and then the dream would become his ultimate nightmare.  Another entirely different vein of nightmare would be Undyne or Alphys deciding to turn their heads, or if he accidentally let out a moan or a sigh… Papyrus clenched his teeth together, determined to stay absolutely silent.

This proved difficult, to say the least, as Mettaton pulled out Papyrus’ cock without an ounce of hesitation from the folds of his boxers (MTT-brand, incidentally). The glow of his shaft pulsated slightly in its almost painful anticipation as every fiber in his body cried out for Mettaton to pleasure him, to go faster and harder than Papyrus could ever dream of doing for himself… to show him how it was _really_ done. But silently. Betraying nothing.

Mettaton slid his hand down Papyrus’ length-- slowly, teasingly-- and Papyrus clenched his teeth hard, almost unable to stand it. His vision slipped out of focus as he watched Mettaton’s gentle hand work his cock, tightening and squeezing at the base before dragging the soft fingertips like a feather duster up the underside. After only a few moments of this Papyrus found himself desperate to adjust his position, so he shifted his legs a little farther apart on the seat.

“Mettaton,” Alphys remarked suddenly, giving Papyrus a nasty fright, “I think Undyne’s asleep.”

“I don’t blame her,” Mettaton responded without missing a beat; at the same time, he tightened his grip on Papyrus’ cock, drawing an ever-so-slight whimper from behind the skeleton’s teeth. “I’m almost out of battery myself.”

“I’m not carrying you back to the house if…” This is all Papyrus heard; his arousal was getting the better of him. He had never been touched like this before, not by anyone other than himself. What was happening now was _nothing_ like his nightly routine.

 _I’m being jacked off by Mettaton in the backseat of Alphys’ car._ It didn’t get any better than that.

He pushed his pelvis up against Mettaton’s hand, wordlessly begging him for more, and Mettaton quickly caught on, picking up the speed and tenacity. Papyrus nearly lost his composure, swallowing a sharp whine that was bubbling up in his throat and hiding his face in Mettaton’s shoulder to muffle any noise that might escape him. He pressed his face into his silicone skin, marveling in the softness of his sleeve and the truly erotic fragrance of his perfume.

Feeling bold, he nibbled experimentally on Mettaton’s shoulder through the filmy fabric of his blouse and he heard the robot’s breath catch. _Careful._ Resurfacing for a moment, Papyrus checked the front. Alphys was singing along quietly to her tunes and Undyne was fast asleep on the window. Good. _Good._

_Oh wowie... that’s good..._

Papyrus’ hips bucked fiercely into Mettaton’s hand. He bit down hard on his tongue, barely keeping back a moan as Mettaton’s movements grew even faster. Mettaton leaned in close, his breath coming in quiet little pants of satisfaction as he drove Papyrus wild.

“We’re almost at your place, Mettaton!” Alphys chimed. Papyrus was too far gone to care at this point; let her look back, let her find out, just so long as Mettaton could  _finish this._

As the familiar pressure built in his groin, he looked Mettaton straight in the eye and realized with a sudden, violent, frenzied rush of ecstasy that the robot was giving him  _that look_ - _-_

Papyrus squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his jaw down hard as he came, harder than he ever had, forcing all of the blissful sounds back down his throat.

As the car pulled in to the gravel driveway, Papyrus hurriedly yanked up his pants, not caring that his boxers were soaked with cum. His embarrassment returned to him and he blushed heavily, avoiding Mettaton’s gaze. _Did I… did we just do that?_ Papyrus wanted to laugh _or something;_ the silence was unbearable. Mettaton was chuckling quietly, the sound drowning in the crunching of the rocks under the van’s tires.

The car came to a halt. Mettaton gathered up his dress.

“Can I get past you, darling?” Mettaton said, his voice smooth and even as he pointed to the door closest to Papyrus.

Papyrus dutifully slid the door open and hopped out onto the gravel. The clear, frigid night air felt good and refreshing on his face.

Before Mettaton sashayed past him towards his house, the robot pressed a piece of paper into Papyrus’ palm.

An MTT-Brand business card, with a heart drawn by “personal phone number”.

**Author's Note:**

> [I have a twitter now! ](https://twitter.com/iqom96)


End file.
